


Demon of the Night Winds

by CalamityCons



Series: Noble in Name and in Thought [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ardat-Yakshi, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4821401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCons/pseuds/CalamityCons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benezia cannot cope with the discovery that her daughter is an Ardat-Yakshi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demon of the Night Winds

The condition manifests with maturity, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be discovered in childhood. For the first few days Benezia didn’t believe it, while Aethyta expected the worst. Come Liara’s 20th birthday and her very first meld, Benezia found an invisible hand of dread sliding down her spine. Only an Ardat-Yakshi felt exhaustion and pain when melding platonically.

In a way, Benezia believed she should have expected it, or even deserved it. Many of her followers turned their stiff backs to her when she revealed her pregnancy, breaking the oath of celibacy she had taken centuries ago in the Temple of Athame. This was her punishment for breaking the spiritual law she had sworn to abide by, and had up until now. Her only child, cursed to be a demon of the night winds.

Even Aethyta, though intoxicated, handled the news with sobriety. “If she walks free, the Justicars will kill her,” she said. Her breath reeked of batarian whiskey and her cheeks had been stained with tears she’d never admit to. Benezia stayed silent, cradling the uneven limbs and child-soft crest of her daughter.

“I can tell you’re ignoring me. I want what’s best for her just like you do.” Aethyta shifted in her seat, bearing the edges of life and not its curves or mercies.

“The monasteries are not the best for her.” Benezia found herself holding Liara tighter in her arms. She recalled her Matron years in the Monastery system, how she saw the sparks of life fade from the eyes of the girls they brought in. Her thoughts did not get far before Aethyta offered her a gulp of whiskey. She refused.

#

Come midday, while Aethyta was on her first shift of the day, Benezia packed all of her essentials–her books, her legal papers, a change of clothes—and told Liara to do the same. Nos Astra was more alive and vibrant at night or during the twilight hours. To be as discreet as possible, Benezia had to go when no one would notice her.

Liara carried her largest backpack and held her favorite shovel in her little hand during the entire process. It was easy to procure a last-minute ticket to Thessia when you were as wealthy and respected as Benezia. The news of her daughter would not delay her so long as she could fill pockets with credit chits.

In the seat of the shuttle Liara bounced in her seat, listing off facts she learned about the prothean Mass Relays from the extranet. “There’s a monument to the relays on the Citadel, and nobody knows why the protheans made it, but I think it’s just a littler relay, like a baby one, or maybe the first propoto—prototype…”

 “That’s nice, Liara.” Benezia said. She kept her eyes on the shadows of the shuttle, seeing through the turian couple sitting stiffly beside one another and the shivering asari asking the stewardess to hand her another blanket. Liara’s smile faded.

Benezia waited the whole trip, peering into the corners of the shuttle. She waited for Aethyta to reveal herself and drag their daughter off to the monasteries, where the Justicars brought back girls who were beaten, bruised, cast out from the galaxy by their own people, because they were _embarrassing._ The Matriarchs who perpetuated this… barbarity, would never know true spirituality if Athame herself marched up to them and hit them with scripture. They did not practice religion in the monasteries, they practiced terror and indoctrination.

When they arrived on Armali and began the check-out procedures, Liara worried over the tears on her mother’s cheeks. Benezia had not even noticed they fell.

#

Their home was only half lived-in when Benezia took Liara with her to the Temple of Athame searching for guidance. Liara left to play in the children’s section while Benezia knelt down for prayer at the foot of Athame’s great statue. She demanded begged the Goddess for answers, a sign of what she should do.

Not a moment later an acolyte ran up to her because Liara had begun to dig up the gardens of the temple with her favorite shovel, believing there to be relics of the protheans hidden in the ground. It was so cute, so innocent of her precious little wing. Benezia realized she may never be able to tell her daughter what kind of garden had been planted when she was born.

The truth would not come out until Liara graduated from Lesia T’Nasha Independent Tutoring Program with the most prestigious private degree she could possibly earn in archeology. Almost immediately she found her daughter distraught with rejection letter after rejection letter, some even threatening to call a Justicar. Liara had no clue why she was being rejected, so Benezia swallowed her pride and told her.

Her daughter renounced all love and favor from her heart that day, and on the next she found she had imitated her mother’s example and left with only her most essential items without leaving a note. She was barely 52 and she had already fled her horrible situation, just as they did 30 years ago. Benezia did nothing to stop her.

A few years later Benezia learned that Dr. Liara T’Soni had somehow gained a job at the University of Serrice specializing in solo archeological digs. Pride swelled in Benezia’s chest, but all the calls and letters she sent to Liara were never returned.

For the next decade or so Benezia taught biotics to children and attended religious or political debates, thrusting herself into work to avoid thinking about her daughter. Life was aimless for the next few decades. There were times Benezia wanted to drudge up her contact for Aethyta to ask for advice in dealing with such a painful blade of life, but she always managed to stop herself.

Then one day she heard the name of Saren Arterius whispered amongst the politicians and found herself intrigued. Perhaps with her last century of life, Benezia could lead one last poor soul away from his path of darkness and suffering. Not all of her followers agreed, believing her plan too dangerous, but Benezia could feel in her spirit that she must at least make a valiant effort.

#

It is a terror to be trapped inside your mind. To pound against the glass as your hands torture and murder. Even now, she knew once her daughter was found on Therum she would be killed or enslaved, not rescued or protected as she so wished. With what little time she had in her own right mind, she pleaded for the human Spectre to stop the monster she had tried to save.

Benezia knew her daughter would only have a harder life from now on. She feared the blackness and lack of light, contrary to the scripture she had dedicated her centuries of life to. She ultimately comforted herself in the smallest of ways. She knew that the ones who could navigate the darkness of death best would be the demons of the night winds.


End file.
